There are several things I'm good at. Others, not so much. I'm pretty good at baking chocolate chip cookies, giving hugs, and telling stories. I'm not that great at knowing how far things are away from me. Thus my current state—concussed. Let's just say it was a klutzy dingdong moment. My friend, Beth, advised I tell everyone it happened in my summer rugby league. I’ll leave it up to your imagination.
But as I sit in my darkened room with an imaginary hand pressing into my forehead, the energy level of a sloth, and the sensitivity to daylight of a vampire I’ve learned a thing or two,
Having a concussion forces you to stop doing everything. I didn’t ask for this Sabbath. But I got it. I was incapable of doing the things I usually did—running laps around the neighborhood, running to the grocery, running one of the kids to the soccer fields, running the dishwasher. Do we see a common theme here? But with a concussion, there was no running. Only rest. I was helpless.
I like to make sure everything is right for everyone in my family.
“Do you have your cleats?”
“Here’s your signed form.”
“Are you hungry? There’s some yogurt in the fridge.”
“Can I help you carry that out?”
These are phrases I love to say, because I love the people in my house so fiercely. I long for their days to run smoothly, for them to be fed and get where they need to be and stay safe and have smiles on their faces. I’m good at giving love. Not so good at accepting it.
But my doing was halted. Even the things I thought I’d do if I had four days in bed like reading or watching movies were taboo. I kept offering to drive, kept mumbling I was all right, kept sneaking in a load of laundry, because I wanted to be the one loving on them. But honestly, I felt weird—out of it. I’d conk out cold in the middle of the day. I wanted to be 100%, but I knew I wasn’t. I had a lot of time to think. And to pray. And when I finally accepted the fact that I was helpless, a beautiful thing happened. I had to stop running, and accept the love my family showered on me.
My kids loved on me in the sweetest ways—from building me a cozy fort complete with blankets and stuffed animals to making me meals and snacks complete with room service. It was like staying at the Ritz. My husband took over all my tasks—making breakfast, driving my shifts to practices, picking up things at the grocery, preparing dinner, and a thousand more details, while miraculously still working his job. Plus everyone kept checking on me, clearing my dishes, turning off lights so it wasn’t too bright for me, asking if I was okay. It was sweet and beautiful. The love my family gave me overwhelmed me and filled me. Letting others love me turns out to be a lovely thing.
When it’s so wonderful, why do I struggle to allow others to actively love and care for me? I’m equally poor at accepting God’s great love and care. How about you? Do you allow others to love you? Or do you try to be stronger, brush off help, attempt to do all the things on your own?
I know God loves me. I know intellectually that His love is free for the taking, that He wants to lead me, guide me, hold me. But I don't let it overflow over me enough. I'm so busy trying to get everything done trying to get everything done right, and trying to do everything for Him. I don't pause enough and let God just plain love me. Let Jesus just hold me. Let the Spirit remind me how much I am loved. When I do pause, His Love covers me like a soft blanket, tastes as sweet as the bowl full of chocolate chips my daughter brought me and makes me feel special and safe. Sigh. When I stop long enough to let God’s love sink in, it’s all I want. I want to stay there for a very long time.
I’m starting to feel more normal-ish. But if this blog is a bit jumbled, please accept my apologies, brain injury and all. Even though I’m not spot on. God’s love is. I pray as I continue to get out more, drive, perhaps even go on a walk (sounds crazy doesn’t it?) that I’ll cling to this lesson that being loved is not a sign of weakness, but a chance for sweetness. I pray the same for you. God longs to love us. God wants to make us feel better, give us rest, comfort us, renew our strength. But He won’t push His love on us. Christ wants us to come to Him. He wants us to say, “Lord, I could really use some of your love. I need You.” Find time this week to slow down long enough to truly let Him love you.
There was a strange banging and clanking sound coming from our laundry room. I carefully cracked open the door, concerned about what I would see. There was our washing machine spinning uncontrollably, doing the Macarena back and forth to an invisible band. Apparently we own the Samsung model known for exploding. This was not good. At all.
There is something strangely comforting to me about putting a heap of smelly clothes into a machine, and later pulling out a soft, warm, gentle smelling pile. I also oddly find satisfaction in folding the mound into neat, squarish shapes and lining up the clothes in organized bins. Sounds weird, but it’s a tangible reward of turning something disorderly and dirty into something appreciated and useful.
But chaos and not being able to have things as I think they should be, not being able to control them? Not my strong suit. At all. Can you relate? Is there anything in your life that’s spinning out of control? How do you feel about it?
For me, this trivial thing, this silly thing, a broken washing machine, made me feel unbalanced, just like our rocking washer. I couldn’t stop our family from wearing clothes, from sweating in them, or from using towels (believe me, I still wanted them to shower). Not only was our machine out of control, but now the heap of dirty laundry became a separate uncontrollable monster. Kids kept asking, “When will it be fixed?” “When will we get a new washer?”
“I’m working on it,” I replied. I’m really trying, I thought. But even for all the calls, repairmen, forms filled out, web searching and ordering I was stuck, waiting on others. This something I’m supposed to do and couldn’t do, made me feel like I wasn’t measuring up to the invisible mom/wife measuring stick that I’ve created for myself. Which is silly.
It happens to all of us. When meetings get cancelled, kids have temper tantrums, schedules are packed to overflowing, expenses pile up, someone we love is sick, but we don’t have the cure in our Band-Aid box or on the shelf next to the Advil? These things out of our control can make us feel frustrated and helpless. Somewhere along the way we may feel less than, because of something that has nothing to do with us. It’s such a blurring of our true reflections. God doesn’t expect us to be perfect. He thinks we’re pretty awesome just like we are, even when we’re not in control. Honest.
We don’t need to be in control. In fact we never were.
How’s that for good news?
God is in control. Of everything.
God is in control of the giant things like keeping the earth on its axis and tiny things like equipping ants with antennae so they can communicate with little built in headsets. If He can do all of that, God can certainly take care of anything that needs to be done, when it needs to be done, how it needs to be done.
It’s not all up to us. It never was. It never will be.
Life doesn’t always go as planned. Sometimes we don’t’ know what to do, others we can’t do the work we know we’re supposed to do, because of circumstances. But there’s always something we can do—try to reschedule the meeting, offer a cuddle to the disgruntled child, figure out the exact item we’ll buy when the money is available, visit the friend who is sick, and most importantly—talk to God about it. Pray. Then we can trust God with the rest.
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. —Philippians 4:6-7
We got a new washer yesterday. I’m back in business. Nine loads (giant loads, mind you), down, several more to go. I already feel better. But I’m certain there will be more things, more intense things, that feel like they’re spinning out of control. But I have hope. You do too, that we don’t need to worry. It doesn’t’ all depend on us (praise Jesus). Out of our control never ever means out of control. We can always count on God, turn everything over to Him. And He truly will take care of all our needs.
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